


Twobuki Drabble Collection

by Iambic_Pentameter



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambic_Pentameter/pseuds/Iambic_Pentameter
Summary: Short fics of varying scenarios, with the nameless imposter and the energetic punk rocker.





	1. The Real Thing

"I'll go, too. Because I'm your classmate, as well."

  
His voice deepens. His fingers reach for his neck as in one swift movement, he tears the rubber guise from his face. The synthetic hair flies off as well, and his real, chubby face comes tumbling out.

  
Ibuki's initial reaction is the same as everyone else; shock at him tearing his face right off, followed by amazement as he reveals that he actually wasn't Mitarai the whole time.

  
Yet she's the only one that ventures onto a slightly different mental path, probably the least relevant thing one could think of in a time like this;

  
_He's hot. He's **really** hot. _

  
He's slightly sweaty, no doubt from having a rubber mask attached to his face at all times, but otherwise he looks...surprisingly great.

  
His hair is long, black, silky smooth and flows naturally down the back of his head. His eyebrows are thick, but they aren't bushy, they look well kept. His eyes are small and narrow, but the gaze he gives is piercing and serious. Topping it all off is his voice, deep and sultry, with a sophisticated way of speaking.

  
Yet despite looking, and sounding older and more mature than most of the class, his cheeks are still as rosy as ever, bringing an odd combination of handsome and cute.

  
It's not uncommon for her to have her head in the clouds, but she's so far-off course everyone's voices start to drown out. She's thankful he's turned slightly away from her at the moment, lest he see her jaw gaping open.

  
Most of the guys and girls in her class look pretty fine, but he's a whole different story. All his features come together in such unique and attractive ways, she's paralyzed to the spot.

  
He's fat, but she couldn't care less. If anything, it adds to the charm. Paired with his voice and his stern gaze, he's like a grizzly bear. A big, beautiful grizzly bear.

  
She hears Komaeda rambling and snaps back to reality. Everyone's encouraging one another, psyching each other up to storm the facility and save the day.

 

_Right, teacher's in trouble. And the real Mitarai, whoever he is._

  
This will all have to wait until later. She has to focus, there are people in danger. With one last affirmation from all, they all run out of the building and into the rain. 

  
She's more determined than ever to beat Enoshima and save everyone.

  
_Because once the world isn't crazy-messed up...I'm asking you out on a date, you big, beautiful mystery man!_


	2. I Can Change

"Oh, hey Mioda. What are you doing?"

  
She looks up in surprise to see Hinata staring down at her. She's currently in the Titty Typhoon, putting some new strings on after snapping one clean off. That tends to happen when she really gets into a jam session. Which is quite often.

  
"Well, this is a surprise! Ibuki didn't think Hajime would come around here. Unless you heard Ibuki jamming and wanted to join."

  
He lets out a light chuckle as he sits down.

  
"Truth be told, yeah. I did. And here I thought the walls were soundproof."

  
"They probably are! But when Ibuki's working on her riffs, you could probably hear on the other islands!"

  
He laughs. "I don't think I can play all that well, but I'm alright to just listen. If that's not weird to you."

"Not at all! There's nothing weird about playing music for people, it makes Ibuki more happy than anything."

He watches with interest as she picks up a pick and starts shredding furiously. Normally she's a bit delicate when putting on a fresh string, but as an entertainer, she wants to give it her all.

  
She closes her eyes and sings the lyrics passionately, but sneaks a look at him when she gets a moment. He's watching with genuine interest. His posture's a bit more slouched than usual. As much as she's enjoying this, there's something kind of off.

  
As she shreds the last chord, he lets out a quiet clap, smiling at her almost with pride.

  
"Thank you, thank you!"

  
"That was really good. I'm glad I came."

  
"Ibuki is too! But Ibuki is still confused."

  
He makes a face. "About what?"

  
"Because it's 2:21 in the afternoon, and Hajime is usually in the park right now, meeting up to play games with Nanami."

  
"Oh. Well, today..."

  
"And Hajime didn't wince and cover one ear like he always does when Ibuki plays. And Hajime doesn't usually carry a suitcase which Ibuki just noticed and also not to be rude but Ibuki just realized Hajime is looking a bit squishier than usual--"

  
"O-okay, okay."

  
He sighs, defeated. He reaches for his neck, but stops himself and slides the suitcase in front of her instead. She pops it open, and unsurprisingly, a collection of wigs, masks, makeup, contacts and a notebook are stashed neatly inside.

 

"Guess I'm not as good of an imposter as I thought. Never been caught out, before."

 

He sounds nervous.

  
"Maybe you were super excited to hang with Ibuki. Just like how Ibuki can't hide how excited she is sometimes."

"Yeah...yeah, maybe."

  
"Why didn't you just ask to hang out?"

  
"I...I dunno. Even though you all know who I am, I...I'm still terrified of showing it. When I see Hinata, he makes it look so easy, talking to people. Maybe I figured if I dressed up as him..."

  
He groans.

  
"God, this sounds stupid. I'm so immature."

  
"Maybe a little. But Ibuki is too, so it's okay."

  
He scoffs in amusement. "Thanks."

  
She scoots a little closer to him.

  
"Hinata's cool and all, but...Ibuki likes the Imposter _she_ knows better."

  
He stares at her blankly, unsure of how to react. His arms reaches into the case, picking up a pair of silver glasses and a blonde wig before she takes hold of his wrist.

  
"The Imposter _I_ know."

  
He bites his bottom lip nervously. He knew what she was really referring to, but he's scared.

  
Recluctantly, he reaches to his neck and slowly slides the mask off. Next comes the wig, then a hairband he uses to keep his long black mane in position.

  
"There. _Perfect_."

  
He shifts in his seat, visibly uncomfortable.

  
"Sorry, but...can I put it back on? I feel...exposed..."

  
"You don't have to hide. Do you ever look at Ibuki and feel you need to cover her up?"

  
"Well...no, but..."

  
"You're wonderful the way you are, my Imposter. Your whole life you've had to be someone you're not, but not around Ibuki. It's time to be who you are."

  
She moves forward and places a hand on his cheek. He's paralyzed with fear, but her words soothe him. She strokes his rosy cheek with her thumb, runs a hand through a long lock of hair, and eventually he finds himself reaching out and placing his own hand onto her face. She's soft and warm.

  
Eventually, she moves into his lap as he gingerly wraps his arms around her. He's more exposed than ever, but her words have opened him up. She can see and feel every inch of him. She tells him how nice he looks, and coming from someone as beautiful and adorable as her, it means so much.

  
For the first time, he's no longer afraid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a certain scene in the X-Men movies.


	3. My Favorite Things

"Aaaaaand here it is!" she announces, proudly.

  
He steps through the door. He wasn't exactly sure what her room would look like, but this falls pretty close to his expectations.

  
Dark purple walls, instruments and sheet music strewn about, a record and CD player sitting side by side.

  
But what really catches his eye is the shelves of records. Good lord, the records. He's not sure how many there are just at a glance, but it has to be at least a hundred.

 

Some baskets on top of them hold cassette tapes and CD's, but the amount of vinyl albums dwarf all else. She's clearly an audiophile, as to be expected.

  
"Hmmm? You admiring Ibuki's collection?"

  
"It's...pretty impressive."

  
"Well, nothing compares! Nothing gets Ibuki's ears tingly like putting on a record..." she sighs, dreamily.

  
"And you've listened to all of these?"

  
"Every one."

  
"At least once."

  
"Non, non. At least twice."

  
"So if I were to pull some random one off the shelf..."

  
She gives a giddy grin. "Do it. Ibuki will tell you all about it."

  
The corner of his lips turns up in amusement. He plucks a sleeve off the shelf at pure random.

  
The cover is rather abstract; two ebony women staring at a shoreline, while an ominous face looms over them. At the top, a small title, in English, printed in bold black letters: ' **Bitches Brew**.'

  
"This one?"

  
" _Ooooh_ , good start! A jazz classic!"

  
_Jazz_? He might be generalizing her a bit, but he always thought her tastes were purely in rock, metal and everything inbetween.

  
"He plays his trumpet so passionately...it's such an experimental point in his career, following the jazz fusion he dabbled in on his last one. Such an underappreciated album in it's time..."

  
She's quite articulate when it comes to music, though that's to be expected. He sets it aside and picks up another one. No title, just two disembodied hands, reaching as though conducting an orchestra, while lines of red red jolt out all around them.

  
"This one?"

  
She squeals with glee.

  
"An all time Ibuki favorite! A true masterpiece of post-rock!"

 

"Post-rock?"

  
"You don't know post-rock!?"

  
"Uh...is it like...rock?"

  
She slowly grins, trying to hold back her snickering.

  
"But...post?"

  
She nearly doubles over laughing. She flops back on the bed, kicking her legs before calming down. He feels himself going red.

  
"Sorry, sorry...it's okay, Ibuki will teach you. About music. You'll be just as much of a music genius in no time!"

  
She seems to have an internal realization as she adds;

  
"Oh. Unless you're not interested. Ibuki won't force."

  
" _No_! No, no no. Mioda, no."

  
He rests a hand on her shoulder.

  
"I love how passionate you are about this. About all of this. I...don't really have any hobbies of my own, so...I'd be happy to listen. I could listen to you talk about music for hours. So please."

  
She grins in delight again.

  
"You really mean that?"

  
"I do."

  
"Well, Ibuki will give you a hobby then. Ibuki will help you realize how wonderful music is!"

  
He smiles warmly.

  
"I'd like that a lot."

  
She pounces him, giving a huge hug.

  
"W-Whoa!"

  
"Most people get tired of Ibuki rambling. But Imposter-chan is such a sweetie!"

  
"T-thanks," he responds weakly, going an even brighter red than before.

  
"Well, pick another record! Ibuki will tell you about it!"

  
He smiles and grabs another random one off the shelf. The cover shows some people on a lifeboat, as the waves crash around them.

  
"This one?"

  
"Ah, another great one! Made of nothing but samples! They're still finding new samples in there everyday, like...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta admit, as a music buff, Ibuki's fun to write.
> 
> Also, I want to see if anyone knows what all the albums are. If you do, you're awesome


	4. I chase you kitten, catch you every time

She had taken out quite a few of the Future Foundation’s troops—she was playing the roughest, grimiest chords she could possibly muster, screeching with all the sonic intensity in the world as they dropped. But now she was cornered.

The Ultimate Marksman had her in their crosshairs. Ibuki could see they had headphones on and was aiming right at her head. She gritted her teeth and shredded the highest-pitched chord she could manage, but it was no good. The laser pointed right in her eyes, which she shut in horror, when—

“I’ll take care of her.”

Ibuki opened her eyes. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in ages. Even above the wail of her own guitar, she managed to hear it. There, standing next to the Marksman, was Mitarai.

He had his hand on the Marksman’s shoulder, which he then held out, open palmed. Robotically, the brainwashed sniper handed the rifle over to him. He held the rifle up and took aim at Ibuki.

“M-Mitarai?”

But something was off. Something about the way he moved, something about the look in his eye seemed a bit too familiar and endearing, like Mitarai was reminding her of someone—

And then it clicked.

The moment the lightbulb dinged in her head, he charged over and snatched the headphones off the Marksman’s head, covering his ears with it, as he dropped the rifle to the ground.

“Now, Mioda!”

_That voice._

She almost hesitated, but she managed not to. As the Marksman stood up, she shredded as hard as she could. The Marksman’s knees crumpled below them, and they fell to the ground in a heap, knocked out by the first few chords of Purr by Sonic Youth.

She looked back over at him. They were both staring at each other with knowing smiles. And before he knew it, she was charging over at him, full sprint, dropping her guitar on the ground behind her.

She pounced into his arms, almost knocking him to the ground, though he managed to hold his footing. He held her in his arms as, grinning the biggest grin possible, she tore the mask off his face, to see him smiling and blushing right back at her.

He was still beautiful. He’d lost the tiniest bit of weight, having eaten exclusively through a feeding tube, but he was still round, and with thick, gorgeous eyebrows, and Imposter-chan was just _beautiful._

He finally broke the silence.

“Oink, oink.”

She giggled, giddy with glee.

“I’ve been told that means, ‘you’re so cool,’ in pig-talk,” he adds.

Unable to hold herself back any longer, she gave him peck after peck, all over his face, as he went redder and redder each time. She buried her face in the crook of his flabby neck, as she started to tear up.

“You got yourself killed to save me…and everyone else…”

He was starting to tear up as well.

“I know. I’m sorry. Well…no. No, I’m not, actually. I’d do anything for my friends, but for you especially.”

“I know,” she sniffles, “just…don’t do it again, you dumbo…”

He chuckled as he squeezed her tight.

“I won’t have to. Ever again. Once this is over, you and I will be free. Together.”

She laughed in complete and utter joy as the tears streamed down her face, as he did the same, holding each other as if it was the end of the world.

 

 

 

“Wait…isn’t it, almost?”

They both looked at each other with blank expressions.

“Mitarai!”

“Right! Mitarai needs help! We’ll snog after! And Ibuki will give you plenty of it, believe me!”

She takes him by the hand and bolts to the nearest possible doorway.

“R-right!”

He blushes again, but a smile still cracks across his face.

If there’s anyone the world was worth saving for, it had to be Ibuki Mioda.

**Author's Note:**

> I miss this ship quite a bit. I was hoping it'd make a return after DR3, but understandably people enjoyed the interactions between the Imposter, Mikan and Mitarai. 
> 
> These won't all be in chronological order and they won't all take place within the same continuity. I'll do requests if I like what's suggested, but no guarantees.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy.


End file.
